His Reckoning
by claireska
Summary: There was only one person who could break the man who couldn't be broken. It didn't help at all that his memories were starting to become stronger as the days counting down to Gotham's abomination was soon to come. Bane/OC REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yeah. OC. review it, puh-lease.**

_No one cared who I was until I put on the mask._

Of course, Bruce Wayne couldn't hear or, for that matter, hint off the slight falter in Bane's voice as he said that to the paralyzed Dark Knight. Even if the mask was off and his mouth were to be revealed to the public, Mr. Wayne was in way too much pain to probably even notice any different pitches or falters in his voice.

As Bane turned his head slightly away from the sweat-covered, pain-stricken man, a flash of recognition whipping past the back of his eyelids. Of course, he tried to keep the memories of her hidden deep in his subconscious. If he actually let the memories of her run like toddlers on a play ground in his head, any chance of tearing down Gotham, or the Dark Knight for that matter, would be completely diminished.

The leather that covered his hands screeched as he closed his fist, the knuckles stretching the leather so far past comfort that the seams started to loosen.

He could remember her soft hazel irises, her jet black hair with a patch of blonde underlying her hangs, her rose-red stained lips that always seemed slightly puckered with the perfect cupids bow leading up to her narrow, buttoned nose. He remembered her perfectly shaped eyebrows, the dimples that appeared when she smiled, the small mole on her right cheek that made her absolutely fit to be a pin-up girl when she felt like trying to represent one.

It wasn't her looks that he loved the most, though; it was the woman she grew to be. She was an outcast, but she never took it personally. Unlike him, when ever punch, kick, beating, or back-stabbing made his heart slowly turn to crisp, none of these affected her. With every hit she took, whether physically or mentally, she'd get right back on her feet and act like nothing happened. That was something that Bane could never do. He always envied her for it, yet that was what made him love her the most.

He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes for a second, and, like a tidal wave, her image was gone from his mind. He wanted it to stay that way. Her invading his mind this far in the process of the plan would demolish everything. Everything would be ruined and it would be because of her.

It was only at times like these that Bane could feel his heart clench with pain. This was one of the few times that he felt anything, really. If only his anesthetic numbed the pain from emotions. _If only..._


	2. Chapter 2

Bane was crouched down among the grates of his underground lair, an aged photograph in his hands. The memories were becoming more vivid, more frequent. His mind was beginning to cloud away from his mission. He was losing focus and he absolutely despised it. What was even worse was the simple fact that she wasn't even alive. She was six feet under, just a skeleton in nice clothing and enclosed in a coffin. Of course, he didn't want to think of her in that way but what else could he do? He was a realist. He still remembered the first time his lips touched hers; how the sudden spark of light flashed in his complete surrounding of darkness. That moment actually gave him hope for the first time; a hope that maybe, just possibly, that maybe he _could_ fulfill an average male's destiny. The whole scenery of that white picket fence house, the yard filled with flowers, the two kids that ran around the house with smiles full of love and joy, and the loving wife that cooked, cleaned, and loved her husband without question. And he would be that husband, the man who worked Monday through Friday, the nine to five shift, coming home just in time to dinner and a clean house, would spend the evening with his children, and, finally at night, lay down next to the only woman he would spend the rest of his life with. Still, what was he joking. There was no such thing as that. There would never be. Just the thought of it made him want to chuckle. A man of his stature, raised in his surroundings, and with his moral stature would never be able to get that dream achieved. But still, that kiss gave him hope.

* * *

_Her smile. It was contagious in all aspects. From her cherry red lipstick to the pearly white teeth her lips revealed. Every aspect of that smile caused him to smile within seconds. He had never found himself smiling this much in his life. He believed it had been at least one year since he truly, sincerely smiled. He was surprised he even let her see all of his teeth. One of his front teeth, which was a snaggle tooth, was one of his less desirable attributes. When he was a child, he was made fun of continuously. He was either called "Snaggy-Tom" or "Tommy the Snag". He hated those kids that pestered him like that. Of course, they met their ends when his hands found their throats a few years later._

_But something about her made all of his insecurities disappear. He wasn't sure if it was because he spotted some on her; like the ovular birth mark that tear dropped down the corner of her left eye or how her left eyelid seemed to be more lazy than her right. All in all, those small fallacies about her just made her all the more beautiful to him. _

_They were sitting on a park bench, two oak trees on either side of them, the river leading to the ocean just in front of them, and the skyline of Gotham being their only light standing past the river. After simply having coffee at a small café, he asked her what she wanted to do and she simply replied, "Let's go for a walk". The tips of her nails brushed lightly against the side of his palm, her hesitancy obviously stated in her hazel eyes and her shoulders, before she slowly let her fingers slide in between his and grabbed hold of his paw-like hands. The size of her slim hand in his almost scared him. He was terrified that if he squeezed too hard for any which reason, he'd break her fingers at the knuckles. He had a feeling that, no matter what move he made towards her, he'd have to treat her like a piece of glass._

_Next thing he knew, she walked to here, sat down on the bench, and pulled him down next to her. She did a bit of talking. Through all this talking, he realized she wasn't just a pretty face. She was cunning, intelligent, ambitious, motivated. He found it impressive. Usually, women with looks like her were all couture but no sophistication. She was different. She talked about helping others, volunteering at the homeless shelters on the weekends, taking in stray cats or dogs, heightening their nutrition back to normal, then attempt to find them a good and healthy home. And then she talked about her job. Now, this was the first time Thomas Bane had come across a criminal psychologist and, personally, he didn't expect her to be sitting right next to him. Could he hide his criminality that well? He didn't know. But she treated him like a normal, hard-working civilian with a kind heart. Too bad she had no idea who he really was, where he came from, nor what he did or had done in the past. To her, he was an unwritten book waiting to be filled with words. He was a man on mystery that didn't let on any secrets about himself through his found it troubling, but maybe that was what she found so interesting about him. It actually sparked an interest in her to find any information about this man._

_She sat there, staring at the skyline of Gotham, a smile tugging at her lips, revealing a hint of her dimples. Her pale skin glowed from the reflection of the city lights and her hazel eyes seemed to sparkle. He couldn't help but let his eyes dance across her features, as though memorizing every aspect of her face to imprint in his memory. He could tell she knew he was staring, but she didn't even seem to mind. She just seemed completely at ease. It was then that she blinked, her upper teeth latched onto her bottom lip, and she glanced down at the ground before connecting her eyes with his. The pure innocence that shone in her eyes was almost adorable to him. And nothing was adorable to Thomas Bane._

_He couldn't help but grin at her, feeling slightly ashamed that she had caught him staring._

_"So, Mr. Bane," she began. Her voice was beautiful. Smooth, calm, collected. Almost like a song without any music. She raised a brow. "It is getting a little late. Would you like to walk me home?" She only lived two blocks away. He knew that when she asked him to pick her up before they went for coffee. _

_"It'd be a pleasure," he started. "But before we do...". Her lips tugged into a smirk as he slowly started to lean closer. He couldn't help but do the same. He could feel his heart thumping beneath his rib rage and his mind running a million miles per minute. He knew he was making a mistake. He knew he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her. He should've never walked up to her, never asked her for her name, never asked her on a date. He was going to ruin her life and he knew it, yet for some reason his ignorance got in the way. Maybe she would make him different. Maybe she could change him. Maybe she'd be able to show him the light in his world of darkness._

_It was when his lips brushed against hers that everything just went into stand still. He couldn't feel the breeze on his skin, couldn't hear the birds chirping in the trees. Everything was just perfect. He felt as though it was just them together, the only two people in the world. His reality could be put on pause for a moment. He needed this. He needed her._

* * *

A single tear welled up in his right eye before slowly trailing down to his mask. Emotions started to overwhelm him. Remorse, depression, but then sudden anger began to overtake everything. He felt like he was about to explode. He needed to crush someone's windpipe and immediately. He knew her death was all his fault, but of course he didn't want to admit that. Even after all these years, he was still ignorant. It was though a seven-year old boy was stuck in the body of a hulking thirty three year old man.

He slid the picture into his palm and closed his fist, the crunch and tear of the picture in his hands releasing some of his anger, but not all. He cocked his arm back and threw it aimlessly in front of him before standing upright and heading straight towards one of his guards. The man must've heard his brooding steps, or felt them, because he turned around, immediately cowering in fear. Although the man held an AK-47 right in his hands, he didn't dare point it at him in an attempt to defend his life. It just shook in his hands, trembling right along with his body.

"Mr. Bane," he weeped as he began to take cautious steps back. "Mr. Bane, what did I do?" He could see the fear in his eyes. That's what Bane loved. Fear. He relished in it, devoured it, and radiated it. Darkness was his home and fear was his power. The two joined made Bane into the man he was today. Anyone with enough courage to face him, he respected, but they would never live to tell the tale. He always made sure of that. Only she was able to tell tales countless several times, but she eventually did die.

He grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt, lifting him off the ground and proceeding to walk forwards towards the wall. The man dropped the gun and Bane stepped over it without a second thought. He wasn't interested much in firearms. He preferred hand-to-hand combat over anything. One knew a real man's worth when he could put an armed man down with just one hand.

He thrust the man into the wall,his hand slowly rising to the mans neck, tightening his strength and cutting off his windpipe. The man started kicking wildly, making sure to hit the side of Bane's knee caps in hopes of breaking his stance. It was nothing but a tap to him. While this was happening, he was also scratching at Bane's hand, his nails digging into his flesh to the point where blood began to run. This was nothing but a tickle. The man gasped for breath, and his legs were slowly beginning to tire. He was losing air. He was running out.

Bane began to wonder what the man was thinking through his head. What mistakes he wished he could take back, what maybe he should've done in his life, if he was happy this moment was happening or not. It made him wonder what she thought within her last moments of her life. Was she happy? Was she truly happy with the way her life went?

At once, the man stopped kicking, his hands quickly dropping dead at his sides. Bane quickly released the man, who fell onto the floor in a deadly heap. It was kind of horrible that that man happened to be the first man in Bane's ferocious sight. He could've swore the man was experienced in cutlery. He was sure he'd be able to find someone to take his place.

He turned around and walked slowly back into his lair.


	3. Chapter 3

Talia sat before her old friend, studying him with her large, brown eyes, her arms crossed over her chest as her right leg was crossed over her left. She had found the crumpled up, wrinkled picture of the girl in the corner of his lair, the sight sparking a concern in her that she didn't expect to kindle from Bane. The whole reason why she talked her father into appointing him the head of this operation was from his extreme lack of having nothing. He had no family, no friends, no loved ones. He had nothing to lose.

"Should I be concerned?" she asked with a quirked brow. His head quickly snapped up, his eyes clouding over with an anger she had only witnessed him direct towards others. Obviously there was something to be concerned with.

"Absolutely not," he growled.

Her brow even quirked higher. She didn't believe him. And the fact that he even raised his voice at her just backed up her suspicions. She quickly rose from the chair, staring up at him with her large brown eyes.

"Don't fail me, Bane. We're too far into this to mess up." With that, she turned her heel and walked out of the liar as Bane watched her leave.

* * *

_Her head was resting on his chest, her naked body lying flush against his. Her bangs were stuck onto her forehead from the sweat that covered her body. Her left arm was wrapped loosely around his waist, her fingertips dancing lightly against his side. She would slowly open and close her lids, humming lightly every once in a while from the feeling of his calloused fingertips lightly brushing against her hairline. This damned well wasn't the first time they made love but every time they did, it just seemed to get better and better. _

_He did realize he was falling too deep into her, but he was being selfish. Hell, shouldn't a man like him deserve to relish in bliss? _

_It was times like these that made his hatred dissipate. Those times always included her. She really was his anti-venom. For all the hatred he had built from his earlier years, she could make it disappear as quick as she walked into a room. And, as insane as it seemed, he was slowly feeling more... civil. She still hadn't encountered the beast that lay within, but he was catching onto her morals. He was learning, slowly but surely, how she lived and the moral code she stood by. He was learning more about her, also. How she never knew her birth mother, how her step-mother was a ruthless drunk, how her father tried to keep the family together but failed horribly with each attempt. She told him about how all of her past boyfriends were more interested with her money than her actual being. Well, all except for one, but he had passed away from a heroin overdose. He also knew that she wasn't always as innocent as she seemed. She always stood by her moral code, but her young adult years consisted of a drug addiction to heavy opiates and colleges that she never attended. It made him feel almost saddened to know that even someone as pure as she wasn't always that way. He expected her to have a perfect home life, a clean slate, a virgin mary persona, if you will. He never expected her to do wrong, but now that she was his, he was going to make sure she continued to do right. No matter his plan of destruction, his plan of a life to take, he would never involve her. He would never let her see the darkness of his world, never corrupt her into his world. _

_He slowly leaned his head down and pressed his lips against her forehead. He could feel her smile against his chest. That's all he needed._

* * *

The memories were getting worse. He needed to see her. To know she was nothing but bones in a wooden casket. Maybe then the memories would dissolve. He wouldn't have any distractions anymore. She would be nothing but a long, lost memory even after his death.

He grasped onto the neck of his jacket that rested on his chair and lifted it, immediately pushing his arms into the jacket and readjusting the fabric to fit snuggly against his form. Although it was winter and the chill barely fazed a man of his stature, the coat seemed to radiate the feeling of leadership and power. Not that he needed much of that, anyways.

He walked past two of his guards, both of them immediately turning their heel and following him with their leaded coat of arms. He lifted his arm up slowly, waving them off. They both stopped in their tracks, looking at each other curiously as he walked into the shadows beyond the tunnel.

Kiel Williams. His gray eyes continued to read her name repeatedly on the tombstone. A shovel lay beside him as he knelt down to the ground, the snowflakes falling from the sky kissing his face. His eyes began to water, his throat becoming dry. He was finding it hard to breath. He hadn't come her in three years. The last time he was here was at her funeral and since then, he swore to never come here again. He wiped a tear that had begun to fall down his cheek.

This was the only reason why. His anger and hatred immediately dissipated, even as he knelt above her long dead body. Just the sight of her name made his skin crawl.

He knew that if she saw what he did, how many people he had killed, the disappointment in her eyes would be enough to make him fall to his knees and never rise again till she bade him her forgiveness. She was the only one who could make the beast purr within.

* * *

He stood on the casket, his nerves on fire beneath his skin. The blisters that were forming on his hands were no matter to him. He threw the shovel aimlessly behind him, the clunk of the metal hitting the ground barely causing a flinch. This was it. No longer would she intrude his thoughts. No longer would she ruin his plans. And no longer would he be broken.

He leaned forward, his fingertips grasping the edge of the casket. He closed his eyes, almost second guessing his decision. He closed his eyes, letting the thought bounce around in his brain.

"You cannot do this any longer," he muttered to himself. He flung open the casket, keeping his eyes closed. The stench of mold and age filled his nostrils. He expected the stench of rotting flesh, but that never came. He opened his lids, expecting to see the skeleton of his beloved, but only catching sight of old jewelry, dead roses, and a cascade of letters. He slammed the casket shut, growling with rage. He lifted himself out of the six foot deep hole, knowing exactly whom to talk to. And anyone who stood in his way would soon see the end of their short, pathetic life.

* * *

A plate smashed against the wall only a few mere inches away from Talia's head. She had never seen such rage from the man she grew to love. Never seen even an ounce of hatred that he held in his eyes. She thought she was the only thing that could keep him calm, that could ease the beast inside him. Especially after Kiel was gone.

"Where is she?" he growled, taking deadly steps towards her. She could feel a spark of fight deep within her chest. Bane was the only thing she was terrified of and that's because he had no fear. He was indestructible, almost immortal. She knew how to end him, but she had never nor would ever cause such harm to him. If it was for his protection, his love, she would've been dead years ago in that prison they shared. It was he who saved her, he who protected her, he who made sure she escaped as he was beaten almost to death by his fellow prisoners.

"I-I don't know." She found her words almost being choked out. Her throat began to clench as though his own fingers were wrapped around it, squeezing out her life slowly. Her eyes were beginning to water as the fear slowly spread throughout her body. When her back finally got in contact with the wall, she felt trapped. Her throat immediately became dry and her palms began to sweat.

He was close enough now to the point where she could feel his breath on her cheek, his eyes burning into hers. She had to look away. She couldn't handle the hatred in his orbs.

"Where is she." It was more a statement than a question. She wouldn't answer him. It wasn't because she refused, but she couldn't find the words to say. For once, Talia was terrified and it was sparked from the last man she expected to fear.

His fingers grasped her chin, his fingertips squeezing into her flesh. She screeched with pain. He forced her to face him, but her eyes refused to look into his.

"Look at me!" he growled. Slowly and hesitantly, she did as she was told. She had never seen so much hatred in his gray eyes. She could see the fire burning behind his pupils, quickly burning stronger with each second of silence. "I will ask you one last time. Where is she?" She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but his grasp prevented her from doing so.

"She's at the place of darkness," she croaked. She had to find her determination, her lack of fear that she knew she still had. She was the daughter of the League of Shadows. She had to remember that.

She leaned into his grasp, her lips almost grazing his mask. "The place where we met, the place where I was born and you were raised. She's in the shadows now, Bane. And by now, she's most likely nothing but a skeleton... a forgotten body in the shadows of the cell I made hers." His face began to twitch with even more rage, his brows clenching together in fear and anger. He pushed her to the floor, immediately turning his heel and heading towards the door. Talia lifted herself up, a smile creeping on her lips. "She's long gone now, Bane!" she yelled as he opened the door and slammed it behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

She stood below her circle of light to freedom, staring up at the moon that happened to be right in the center of the opening to the prison, the light illuminating her pale skin. Even under the dirt and scratches that damaged her skin, she was still absolutely beautiful. Her brunette locks were no more, her scalp a close shaven canvas. It made it easier for her. Although the men knew full well that she was a woman, keeping her head shaved prevented them from grabbing onto her hair when she walked by to try to pull her into their cell in the dark depths where she would rather not know what would happen. Of course the elders, most of the healers, kept a close eye on her, but they all couldn't surround her every minute of the day.

If she counted correctly, tomorrow, marking the five years she had been in this prison, would be her hundredth attempt to escape. She had tried before, countless number of times, to escape this place. Every attempt ended her with a horrible, bruised rash that wrapped around her back and right under her breasts. Not to mention an awful whiplash she couldn't come back from for hours. She was hoping tomorrow would be a success, but with the five years she had been locked here, she wasn't in as good of shape as she used to be. She didn't have the flat stomach, the toned arms, and defined legs anymore. Her stomach was now concave and her skin held tightly around the little muscle she had left on her limbs. If he were able to see her now, he wouldn't recognize her except for her strong hazel eyes and plumb lips. Even her facial appearance had changed. Her cheeks sunk in, leaving her cheekbones disgustingly defined and her face appeared more diamond-shaped than her healthy oval.

Of course, she had heard the legend of Bane. It didn't take a second thought for her to connect it with her long-lost lover. It also didn't take her long to realize he had lied to her about many things, but she rationed that she would've done the same thing if she were in his place. She heard about how he had escaped three years prior to her entrance into this prison. She was, in all honesty, shocked to hear about how many men he had either killed or well crippled during his stay here. And, for that matter, how long he had been here. No one knew Bane's history before he came to Pena Dura or what happened to his family. What they did tell her was that his father, who was a convict at this prison, had died in his cell. Having thirty more years left of his sentence, she forced eight year old Thomas Bane to finish his sentence. As ludicrous as it sounded, it was true. At least, every convict in this prison stated so. The child only came here with nothing but his teddy bear, which only a year later, he had pulled a knife out of and killed another inmate after he attempted to take his teddy away from him.

She knew men could hold such evil, but a young boy she found baffling. But, being sent to such a horrid place where murderers and rapists were held could probably turn even the most innocent, God-preaching man into an evil, sadistic monster. Yet, from all the days she had spent with Tom, she could never, in a million years, imagine him taking another man's life. His eyes held so much compassion, warmth, and love. His touch was gentle, his kisses tender, his sex passionate, but loving.

She missed him. She'd admit that. She dreamed many nights of him breaking into the prison to sweep her off her feet and bring her to freedom. She knew it was just ludicrous. The thought of Bane even knowing her location was a joke. She was the one who left him. She was the one who packed her bags and ran out the door. She was the one who walked away from the only man she ever loved.

* * *

_Rage. It was blind, especially when the feeling overcame her whole bodice. She said things she could never take back, do actions that she'd regret within a few hours. She knew what was to come. As much as she wanted to prevent it, to sit down and calmly work things out, her rage was just too overbearing._

_Talia. That was the name. The name of the woman writing her Bane, talking of how she missed him, thought about him continuously, still loved him with every fiber in her body. And from the context, especially the words, "I apologize, my love. I apologize that it has taken me so long to reply to you, my knight.". She has no idea who this woman was, what she looked like, never even acknowledged her name until now, but she wanted to wrap her hands around this woman's throat and squeeze until she could feel her trachea break underneath her palm. Of course, she found this letter among their mail, curious as to the mysterious Talia Al' Ghul sending her love a personalized letter. She could smell the perfume lightly sprayed on the envelope as soon as she opened their P.O. box in the lobby of their apartment complex. The perfume smelt of fresh roses._

_As soon as she sifted through their letters, when her eyes came upon this particular letter, that feeling of curiosity perked in her eye. That, and the all too familiar feeling of needing to see what this letter entailed. she had recognized this feeling immediately, but she never felt it with Tom. She never felt like she needed to second guess herself, do research behind his back to make sure whatever he told her was true. But this; this was too much. This was something that she didn't expect at all, and because of that, she was going to rip that envelope apart as soon as she stepped into the apartment. And that's exactly what she did._

_As she read, by the end of every sentence, it seemed like the period was just a bullet that would shoot through her heart. She thought maybe he was different. Her knight in shining armor, so to speak. Someone that wouldn't hurt her, that would treat her with the respect she deserved, that would love her unconditionally. Two years, she had been so confident in this relationship that ended up being a huge lie. Not only did she feel her heart breaking because of Tom, but she felt like life had just back handed her across her cheek and spat at her as she lay on the ground. Did she really deserve this? What had she done so bad in her past life? Did she really piss that many people off?_

_Now, here she was, sitting at the kitchen table, a lit cigarette held firmly between her pointer and middle finger of her left hand, the open letter set in front of her. She couldn't help but glare at the piece of paper like it was Tom and this Talia. The satisfaction of it was the fact that Tom, if on schedule, which he usually was, would be home in five minutes from work. Because of her anxiousness and built up anger, she couldn't help but glance from the clock to the letter every few seconds, taking a a long drag from the cigarette every couple of moments._

_And then she heard it. The key entering the lock, turning, and the lock clicking back into the door. The white panel door opened, Tom walking in and starting his routine like he did every night. He closed the door behind him, tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, and started to take his motorcycle jacket off, sliding the slightly puffed jacket off his bodice. Even though the padding from the jacket made any man seem more buff, it seemed like a thin piece of clothing for him. It didn't add muscle to him, didn't add bulk. It only complimented his muscular attributes. He finally looked towards her as he set the jacket up on the coat rack, sending her a soft smile before he saw the dark and ugly look on her features. His face quickly twisted with concern, his eyes holding curiosity and his brows knitting together with question. He left his lips slightly parted, leaving his bottom lip to pout slightly involuntarily. If the thought of gutting him right in her kitchen floor hadn't been crossing her mind, she would've smirked at his appearance. The facial expressions this man held, no matter how concerned, angry, or grumpy they could be, she always found them adorable in some aspect or another._

_She almost acted on her urge to shake the thoughts out of her head, but stopped herself. She knew he could probably tell in her hazel orbs that she became distracted for a moment, but when she remembered the piece of paper placed on the table in between her elbows and what it read, she remembered what she had to do. He took a few steps towards her, but she pointed her two fingers at him that held the cigarette, which caused him to stop in his tracks,_

_"Don't come closer to me," she whispered, her voice croaking. She didn't want her voice to fail her, but it already seemed as though it was going to. She wanted ot sound mean. She wanted to growl, spit, and scream. She sounded like a little chihuahua compared to the large great dane she was prepared to sound like._

_"What's going on, love?" he asked, his strong accent making her insides want to melt. His voice was filled with concern, matching his facial expression perfectly. _

_She glanced down slowly at the letter on the table before looking back up at him. His eyes were already eyeing the piece of paper, his lips closed and stretching into a tight line, his eyes slightly widened from realization. She could tell he was figuring out what to say, how to explain. Most of all, she could tell he was running ideas through his head on how to make her stay. And, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was hoping he would figure out a way. Deep inside, she didn't want to leave him. She wanted him to break down to her, to explain how it was a big mistake and sweep her right off her feet. She knew it wasn't going to happen though. Her problem was that with every situation she ran in to, she would fantasize the outcomes before letting reality slip back in. She had done this tactic ever since she was young and hadn't stopped since. _

_Slowly, his gray eyes connected back with hers, revealing the apology he couldn't say in words. She could see the sadness, the regret, and sorrow that was in his soul. She could tell this was the last thing he wanted to happen. That being hurting her. _

_"Baby, I can ex-," he started, but she immediately cut him off._

_"Shut the fuck up and don't give me that, "I can explain" bullshit, Thomas. I don't want to hear it," she growled. There it was. Her confidence, her anger. She was scared she lost it when he walked in the door, but here it was, biting back with a vengeance. She slid the chair out and got up, grabbing the piece of paper as she did so and crumpling it into a ball in her hands before throwing it at his chest. She wished somehow that thin piece of paper weighed the same as a bowling ball so he would fall onto his back on the floor, but it simply hit his chest with a soft plop and fell to the floor at his feet. "Let Talia know you're all hers now. No more fucking competition will be around." She pushed the chair into the kitchen table, the two pieces of wooden furniture slamming into each other, before she walked into their bedroom and started collecting her wallet, purse, a few packs of cigarettes and some hygiene products. She knew he was standing in their room, watching her collect all these things. _

_"Will you please stop and talk to me?" he pleaded. She didn't dare glance back at him, just continued to stuff items violently in her bag. When she decided she had enough for a few days, she threw the bag on their king sized bed. She zipped the bag and slid the strap on her shoulder, heading to walk past him but he grabbed her arm. He didn't grab it violently nor squeezed her arm much, but he should've known better. His touch was soft and gentle, but her anger just flared even more. The one thing she hated more than screaming while she was angry was someone stopping her from doing what she wanted. The last man who attempted to stop her by grabbing her arm almost got pushed down her concrete porch steps. She didn't care how much someone yelled at her, the words they said, or how close they got to her face, but grabbing her was the biggest mistake they could make._

_She glared down at his hand wrapped around her arm before her eyes slowly raised to meet his. Even though he held so much soft emotion in his gray orbs, it didn't make her anger fade._

_"Get your hand off me," she growled. He didn't twitch, didn't even move a muscle. _

_"Please. Calm down and talk to me," he whispered. They stood there for a moment, her glaring at him and he pleading at her with his eyes. For a moment, she thought for a slight second to actually talk to him, but then she remembered the three words Talia wrote at the end of the letter; three words that were only for her to speak to Thomas Bane but were used by another woman. She ripped her arm from his grasp and walked away, leaving Tom standing in their bedroom, anger starting to bubble its way through his veins. Little did he know that would be the last day he ever heard or would be able to see his Claire._


	5. Chapter 5

Claire sat on her cot in the shadows, the cell bars pressing uncomfortably against her back, her knees tucked up to her chest with her slim arms wrapped around her shins, tugging the thin limbs closer to her body. It was hot. So very hot for her day of escape. Even though she tried rehydrating her body as well as she could all morning, her body still was filled with fatigue and exhaustion. She didn't even do much movement this morning to make her tired.  
Her soft, hazel eyes slowly raised to the light coming from the circular hole of freedom. She couldn't imagine how the sun would feel on her skin, the sand beneath her toes, the wind against her body. It almost made her dizzy just thinking about it. She could never imagine how beautiful those simple things could make her feel when they were taken away from her for so long. Soon, she could feel freedom. Soon.  
But until that moment that would soon occur in only a few hours, she repositioned her body on her cot and laid down on her back, immediately slacking her shoulders and closing her lids, taking a deep breath in to clear her head before she awaited slumber to swim inside her mind.

* * *

She wasn't sure if she was dreaming, or losing her mind, or, if another mate had figured out her lock to her cell, but she could feel the faint traces of four calloused knuckles softly going back and forth against her cheekbone. The touch didn't bring any discomfort to her, only peace. She found the sensation quite odd, especially since she knew full well the surroundings that dwelled around her. And another thing she found quite odd was her complete lack of hearing, which suddenly just came to her realization. That's when the small spark of anxiety hit her chest and quickly sparked throughout her nerves. She immediately snapped her lids open, only to connect to the gray orbs she never thought she'd see again. The anxiety only exploded now, along with complete shock that ran through her body. Was she really seeing him? Was he really here? Or was the blistering heat already making her hallucinate after such short notice after waking up? Before she could even lick her lips in hopes of mustering some sort of sentence past her dry lips to even ask the man she loved years ago, the knuckles that were once before feathering against her skin touched the tip of her cheekbone and slid along her jaw line, stopping just above her chin. The shock only seemed to hit her more. She couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. All she could do was stare at his gray eyes, the eyes that only she could dig deep into his soul with. She couldn't even feel the tear that had managed to well in her right eye and slid down her temple, stopping at her close-shaven hairline. It was then, once she felt the tear begin to soak against her scalp, that her eyes began to have the ability to move again. She slowly lifted her vision, immediately noticing the small scar that broke the corner of his right brow. She loved that damned scar and its perfect placement just because it made him seem so tough, but inside, he was like silly puddy.  
Her eyes continued to lift only to see a very bald scalp. She didn't realize it, but she frowned slightly at the sight. She had seen Tom go through numerous hairstyles and this was her least favorite, next to when he grew his hair out to the point where he had to sleek it back with hair gel so it wouldn't get in his face. And then, slowly, her eyes trailed down to the steam punk like mask that covered more than half of his face and those beautiful, pink pouty lips she loved the most. And the quickest, immediate thought was how would she ever be able to kiss those lips ever again? She felt devastated, heartbroken, but she couldn't let those emotions ruin this moment. Not now. She'd ask questions and devise plans later. Slowly, her right hand flexed before slowly reaching up and grabbing hold of his hand that was still brushed against her face. Her fingers snuck into his palm and stretched his fingers straight out. She brought his hand back to her face, his calloused, rough palm cradling her cheek. Even though she couldn't see his smile, she could tell he was from the glint in his eyes and the wrinkles creasing on each corner of his eyes near his temples.  
Everything that seemed perfect in this moment was quickly changed within a matter of seconds when an explosion went off in the west side of the penitentiary followed by the echoing of automatic rifles going off. Claire had completely forgotten her lack of hearing until this moment. Bane's hand quickly retracted from her face, his attention aiming directly at the entrance of her cell, his brows furrowing with anger and rage immediately. Her gaze quickly followed his, only to see a group of three large men entering her cell. All three snickered at the man who was sitting next to the frail girl, sizing him up. It wasn't until that Bane stood that all three men exchanged glances of nervousness to each other. "Don't move," he ordered her, not even glancing down at her. Oh my god, what happened to his voice? Quickly, he advanced towards the men, all three of them uneasily bringing their knuckles up. Bane stopped short and Claire could tell he was smirking underneath his mask. "Oh, come on, men! Now, I heard that only the worst of the worst stayed in this penitentiary and not even the three of you have enough bravery to advance at me?" The biggest of all three, who happened to stand in the middle, decided he'd take the overpowering man down. He took a running leap, his arm cocked back in preparation to hit Bane, but quickly found Bane's fingers wrapped around his throat and the pressure of his hand breaking his trachea into pieces.  
Claire could hear the cartilage breaking and her stomach suddenly flipped with instant nausea. She knew that Tom possessed power and strength, but not to the point where he could kill a man within two minutes. She had heard the legends of Bane within these walls, but Bane wasn't Tom. Tom was the man she fell in love with. The man she just noticed was an animal she had never saw in her existence. Sure, she'd come across many evil people, but this man before her, who just killed that man, was no better, if not worse, than the Joker. She took her gaze away from Bane and stared at her cot, her fight or flight instinct starting to kick in. She could see that Tom was still there, but how much of Bane was still there? And it occurred to her how ridiculous it sounded referring two different people in the same man, but that's basically how it was. She never saw a tablespoon of this monster (although they had gotten into fights before, but nothing to this proportion.) Sure, she had caused him to punch holes into walls, had seen him fracture a couple facial bones, but never take a life with his own paws.  
She could hear the other two men running away and the body of the third drop to the floor. She could also hear Tom's feet shift and his footsteps coming towards her until his black, worn combat boots came into her line of vision. He knelt, his fingers brushing against her chin but she quickly snapped her head away, not wanting him to be anywhere near her. She felt slightly wrong for resenting him and she knew it hurt him because she could hear a low growl in his chest. He slowly brought his hand back, placing it on his knee.  
"Ah. So, now you see me for how I truly am," he began, his voice hindered from the mechanic device covering his mouth. She hated it. She truly did. It made him sound, and become, more of a monster than he was. "Well, Claire, either you can follow me out of here or I can force you out of here. It's your choice, my dear." Her lines immediately set in a straight line, her eyes glaring up at him now. Right now, she was only staring at Bane. Tom was locked away inside some where deep in the monster. He cocked his head slightly to his right, brows raised. "Can't decide?" He quickly stood, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her up with him, quickly throwing her on his shoulder. "I'll decide for you." Anger flared in her like never before. She didn't want to be touched, especially by this. She quickly curled her hand into a fist and hit his right shoulder-blade. He groaned lightly, but not like he used to.  
Before she left, he had gotten into a bad motorcycle accident and his shoulder never healed correctly. Sometimes, his whole right arm would just stop working because of either pinched nerves or from the large amount of pain he'd be in. The one time she accidentally hit him in the shoulder playing around and stunned him in pain for ten minutes. As horrible as it was that she tried using that piece of knowledge to advantage, she didn't want to be carried.  
"Sorry, my dear. That was nothing but a pinch, now." And the small pinch she felt in her neck knocked her out limp.


End file.
